Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I'm borrowing the characters and the relative plot from J.K. Rowling (specifically from HBP), but I own nothing except the ideas that deviate from canon. This story is non-compliant with the canon events of HBP and DH and takes place during the trio's sixth year.
Chapter One: A Friendly Conversation
Draco ran his fingers through his sleek blonde hair. He'd allowed it to grow out a bit over the summer – or at least, that was the story he told anyone who commented on its newfound length. In truth, Draco had spent his summer training with his mother. He'd learnt of his parents' affiliation with the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, and he'd been initiated into the clan against his will. Now, he was back at Hogwarts with a direct command from the Dark Lord himself: kill Albus Dumbledore.
At the head of the staff table, the Headmaster rose to his feet. Draco watched him touch his wand to his throat and instantly quieted the Great Hall with amplified "ahems." Draco listened as Dumbledore gave the usual beginning-of-term speech, but he didn't pay it any attention. Instead he wondered how he was supposed to kill the wizard the Dark Lord himself would not trifle with. He looked like a feeble old man, but Draco knew his Headmaster possessed superior skill and could easily best him. He'd have to get the drop on Dumbledore if he was ever going to succeed.
The rest of dinner passed uneventfully. Draco picked at his food until it was late enough to return to the dorms. Pansy Parkinson attached herself to his arm, and Crabbe and Goyle shadowed them. Draco sighed inwardly; all he wanted was some time alone.
Pansy had carried a conversation on idle chatter alone all the way from the Great Hall to the entrance portrait to the Slytherin Common Room in the dungeons. Neither of them had once addressed the gaggle of first years following behind them, even though several had asked questions about the school. Draco pulled his arm away from Pansy and turned to the first years.
"This is the entrance to our Common Room," he told them in a deep voice. "The password is trusted to all of you, but keep in mind that only Slytherins are allowed past this point. If we hear of any of you sneaking in students from other houses, we'll jinx you all the way to the Hospital Wing."
He hoped his demeanor had been intimidating. He hadn't really put a lot of effort behind it, but he'd have been disappointed if the children weren't the least bit afraid. Smirking to himself, he turned back to the portrait.
"Listen carefully," he called out. Then, to the portrait, "The password is coluber immortalis."
The painting swung open, revealing a large circular doorway cut out of the stone wall. Draco allowed Pansy to enter first before he followed her. After telling the first years that the boys' dorms were to the left and the girls' to the right, Draco finally sunk into one of the black leather sofas in front of the fireplace.
Pansy nestled in beside him, Crabbe sat across from them in a dark green cloth chaise, and Goyle leaned against the far wall. Draco idly played with Pansy's hair as he listened to the crackles of the fire. Only faint amounts of orange light illuminated the space; most of the fire's brightness was swallowed up by its obsidian casing.
"So what happened to you this summer, Draco?" Pansy asked, finally breaking the silence.
Draco exchanged looks with Crabbe. They had joined the Death Eaters together; Goyle had joined some months before they had, much to their mutual surprise. Draco looked down at Pansy, who stared straight ahead, as if afraid of his answer. Her family wasn't as… involved as his, and she'd managed to stay fairly sheltered from the war. He knew she'd find out eventually, but Draco didn't particularly want to disclose his summer activities to his friend.
"Mother wanted to spend time with me. With Father gone, she's become a bit over protective," he explained. It was not far from the actual truth; Narcissa had never wanted her son to join the Death Eaters, but the Dark Lord was furious with Lucius for being sent away to Azkaban and as punishment, he'd inducted Draco. In turn, Narcissa had begun rigorous training sessions with her son to strengthen him for the Dark Lord's task.
Pansy frowned. "I hardly got to see you," she pouted. "And now that you're back, you've hardly said two words to me. You didn't touch your dinner, and you're being almost nice to the first years. After that scandal with Potter at the ministry last term –"
"—You'd do well to mind your place, Parkinson," Goyle snarled from behind them.
Affronted, Pansy sat up and glared at him. "And what makes you think I care about your opinion?" she demanded. "Like you have any idea what 'my place' is. Draco blew me off all summer, and now he's acting weird, and I have a right to know why."
Goyle stepped forward. "Yeah? Ever stop to think that maybe Draco blew you off because Draco didn't want to spend his time with you?"
Draco saw Pansy's jaw tighten and wondered how she would react. When she didn't pull out her wand, he was legitimately surprised. She stood and walked to the entrance to the girls' dormitories.
"If I'm so unwanted," she said through gritted teeth, "then I'll just leave you lot be. You can do rounds on your own this evening." She huffed through the door, slamming it shut behind her.
Draco groaned, cradling his head in his hands. The last thing he felt like doing was covering both territories for rounds that evening. He turned to glare at Goyle.
"Thanks for pissing her off, mate," he snapped.
"She shouldn't even be here," Goyle countered, arms crossed over his broad chest. "She's no part in this. We shouldn't even risk her getting in the middle and mucking things up. And if you could think with something other than your dick, you'd realize I'm right."
Draco sprung to his feet. Within seconds, his wand was aimed at Goyle, who immediately brought out his own wand. Draco's blood pumped in his ears. His grip tightened on the wooden stick between his narrow fingers as he contemplated all the ways he could punish Goyle for his insolence. He longed for the days when both he and Crabbe feared him so much they blindly followed his every command.
"Don't think I won't make an example of you," Draco growled. His fingers twitched, and Goyle flinched away. "Make no mistake, Goyle, I am not playing games this year. If you have a problem with how I handle things, leave. Find someone else to follow around."
Goyle's mouth contorted into a grimace. "The only reason anyone is afraid of you is because me and Crabbe used to beat them up," he snarled, taking a long stride toward Draco. "Without us, nobody would have ever taken you seriously."
Draco remained firmly planted in his spot. He narrowed his grey eyes at the larger boy, mulling over his options. He could feel his anger bubbling to the surface, and he knew if Goyle got any closer, he wouldn't be able to restrain himself any longer.
"Oi," Crabbe called from behind Draco. "You're actin' like he ain't never done nothing for us."
Both Draco and Goyle turned to look at the third party. Crabbe's round face was screwed up in anger, and a flush had crept up his neck and onto his cheeks.
"Yeah?" Goyle countered, turning his full attention to his friend. "And what's he ever done for us, Crabbe? Ordered us around? Acted like we were less than him, inferior, like he was in charge and we were his lackies, that's all he's ever done for us."
Draco seized the opportunity. He launched a whispered jinx at Goyle who, having not heard the spell, was caught completely off-guard. His skin begin to blister in angry red welts that swelled until they burst. His cries of agony echoed off of the stone walls, and Draco immediately cast a silencing charm around the room. In a couple quick strides, he was suddenly standing overtop of Goyle, who had collapsed to the ground.
"The next time you're wondering what I've ever done for you," Draco said coldly as he placed his foot on Goyle's neck, "remember that I didn't kill you when I easily could have."
With that, Draco turned and began to swiftly stalk off toward his room. "You'll want to take him to the Hospital," Draco called out without looking back. "Tell Pomphrey some Gryffindor did it." He knew Crabbe would follow his instructions. Unlike Goyle, Crabbe had never outgrown the childish mindset of follow the leader. He didn't have a problem doing whatever Draco told him to because he preferred to take orders than give them.
Across the grounds, Harry Potter sat in the Gryffindor Common Room with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Lively chatter surrounded the three of them, who huddled in a corner, as far removed the hub of excitement as possible. Hermione was only half listening to the boys' conversation; she had her head down in a book, but her thoughts focused in on Draco Malfoy.
She'd wandered off from the group when she, Ginny, Harry, and Ron had gone to Diagon Alley with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to shop for school supplies. In all honesty, she'd gotten a little tired of being with the group; it was exhausting being surrounded by people, even though Hermione adored her friends. She needed some alone time, so when they'd gone over to the twins' joke shop, Hermione snuck off on her own and took a walk.
She saw Malfoy before he ever noticed her. He was traveling alone. She wasn't sure why she felt compelled to follow him, but something about the look on his face, like he was pained, nervous, made her curious. She tailed him, keeping well out of sight, until he entered Borgin & Burke's, a shop that, from the look of it, specialized in dark artifacts.
Hermione hung back and knelt underneath the window. From here, she couldn't be seen, but she also couldn't see a thing. She had to rely on her ears for any information. Unfortunately, every sound coming from the store was muffled. Frustrated, she reached into her bag for one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears. She scooted over to the door and, with her wand, guided one end of the Ears under the small crack. Neither Borgin nor Malfoy seemed to notice, so Hermione listened to the other end of the Ears.
"Can you fix it?" she recognized the drawl of Malfoy's voice.
"Mr. Malfoy, sir, Mr. Burke surely already explained this to you," someone replied, their voice tainted with the hoarseness of someone who'd smoked for years. Hermione assumed this had to be Borgin. "We can fix it, yes, but we can't get to it. We'd have to explain it to you and you'd have to fix it on your own."
"So tell me how to fix it," Malfoy demanded. "I don't have time to keep coming back to this blasted shop every other day. I have to go back soon."
There was a long pause. "Okay, Mr. Malfoy, if you think you're… capable, I'll write down instructions for how to fix it."
Nothing was said for a long while. Hermione wondered what was going on within the store, and her curiosity got the better of her. She raised herself to her knees and peered inside through the dusty window. She saw Malfoy examining what appeared to be a necklace of some sort, but didn't see Borgin anywhere. Perhaps he'd gone off to write down those instructions.
Malfoy looked up from his necklace. His gaze turned to Hermione's general direction, and the lone Gryffindor froze. She couldn't tell if he'd seen her, but she couldn't get herself to move out of sight. She watched him walk toward the window, and she quickly withdrew the Ear that was under the door. Suddenly, Malfoy turned around; Borgin came limping out of a back room. With neither of them looking at her, Hermione managed to duck down beneath the window again.
She took a deep breath to steady herself before she climbed to her feet. Hermione quickly made her way out of Knockturn Alley and back to Fred and George's shop, where she met up with Harry and Ron.
"Oi, 'Mione," Ron called, snapping Hermione's attention back to the present. "We've gotta do rounds now. C'mon."
Draco walked around the dungeons. Pansy had stuck to her guns and had refused to come out for the evening, and although Draco could have made a fuss about it, he decided it wasn't worth it to argue with her. There were two new fifth-year prefects anyway, on whom he'd be able to pawn off most of the night's work.
After giving the two newcomers their assignments, Draco took off. His hair hung loosely around his face, the tips of his platinum blond strands grazing the tops of his shoulders. He knew the Gryiffindors had the Great Hall area to patrol that night; he only hoped he'd be able to get Granger alone, away from Weasley. Draco knew he'd seen her outside of Borgin & Burke's, and he needed to find out what she knew.
To his luck, Draco spotted a fluffy brown mess of a haircut walking in the opposite direction after he got out of the dungeons. Granger wasn't paying attention it seemed, so she didn't notice him until it was too late to turn back. He grabbed her forearm roughly as he walked past her, dragging her behind him and into an empty classroom.
Draco let go of her arm and crossed his in front of his chest. "I think you owe me an explanation, Granger," he drawled, narrowing his grey eyes at her.
Her eyes widened. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly. Then, furrowing her brow, "And besides, you can't just snatch people out of the hallway and drag them into empty rooms!"
Draco's arms dropped to his side and balled into fists. "Don't lie to me, Granger," he said quietly. "I saw you outside of Borgin's shop. You were staring right at me like some lost little puppy."
Draco watched Granger's face flush. Her eyes widened again, and Draco couldn't help but think she looked an awful lot like a startled deer.
"You're right," she said finally. Her voice steadied and the shock was erased from her face, though the red tint remained. "I was taking a walk through Knockturn Alley and saw you inside of Borgin & Burke's, and I got curious. You seemed to be arguing with the shopkeeper. I wanted to make sure you didn't hurt him."
Draco narrowed his eyes and quickly closed the distance between the two of them. Granger backed up into a wall, and Draco trapped her there. "I don't like being followed," he told her in a low voice. "And I don't like being spied on."
Draco felt something narrow jab into his abdomen, and he knew she'd pulled her wand. He didn't move, didn't even flinch. All he did was smirk down at her before he leaned forward, his face only inches from hers.
"Now, now, Granger," he said, "this is just a friendly conversation. A fair warning, if you will. The next time I catch you following me—" Draco quickly grabbed her wrist and squeezed tightly. She gasped in pain and dropped her wand. "—I won't be so friendly."
With that he stepped away. Draco kicked her wand to the other side of the classroom before he turned on his heels and walked away.